Page 30 of Shift Happens
“Your father seemed reluctant,” I noted gently.
“He’s worried,” Milo acknowledged. “Not about you specifically, but about change. About losing pack traditions.”
“Sadie mentioned he fears you might choose my world completely.”
Milo sighed, looking out at the shimmering water. “He doesn’t understand that it’s not about choosing one world over the other. It’s about bridging them. Creating something new that honors both.”
I wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him against my side. “Is that what you want? A bridge between worlds?”
He looked up at me, eyes reflecting moonlight. “It’s what I’ve always wanted. Even before I understood it myself. To be fully wolf and fully human, without sacrificing either.” His expression grew more serious. “But it only works if my human is someone who accepts both sides of me. Someone like you.”
The simple declaration held such depth of feeling that words seemed inadequate in response. Instead, I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him—gently at first, then with increasing passion as he responded eagerly.
When we finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, Milo’s eyes had that familiar amber glow that indicated heightened emotion.
“I should warn you,” he murmured, hands sliding under my shirt with clear intent, “the full moon affects us in many ways. Heightened senses, heightened… appetites.”
“Is that so?” I asked, pulse quickening at his touch. “And are we far enough from the clearing for privacy?”
His smile turned mischievous. “Wolf hearing is good, but if we’re quiet… mostly quiet…”
I glanced around the small clearing by the stream—the soft grass, the moonlight, the secluded feeling of the space. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
In answer, he tugged at my shirt, helping me pull it over my head. “The moon makes us primal,” he explained, hands movingto my belt next. “More instinctual. I want to claim you here, in my territory, under the full moon. If you’re willing.”
The thought of making love here, in this place significant to Milo, with the full moon above and his pack not far away, should have made me hesitate. Instead, I found myself aroused by the wildness of it, the connection to Milo’s wolf nature.
“Yes,” I said simply, helping him with the rest of my clothes until we were both naked under the moonlight.
Milo’s eyes tracked over my body with undisguised hunger. “Beautiful,” he murmured, stepping closer. “Mine.”
The possessiveness in his tone sent heat coursing through me. “Yours,” I agreed, pulling him against me.
Our bodies came together with urgent need, skin against skin in the cool night air. Milo’s usual gentleness was tempered with something wilder, more demanding. His kisses were deeper, his touch more insistent, small growls rumbling in his chest when I responded with equal fervor.
We sank to the soft grass beside the stream, Milo straddling me with unexpected grace. His smaller body was silhouetted against the starry sky, moonlight silvering his skin and glinting in his eyes.
“I want to ride you,” he said with uncharacteristic directness. “Here. Now. Under her light.”
The image his words conjured nearly undid me. “We don’t have—”
He reached for his discarded backpack, producing a small bottle of lubricant with a triumphant smile. “I came prepared.”
“You planned this?” I asked, both amused and aroused by his forethought.
“Hoped,” he corrected, leaning down to kiss me again. “Wolves are opportunists.”
What followed was unlike any of our previous encounters—more primal, more instinctual, as if the moonlight had strippedaway layers of human restraint. Milo prepared himself quickly, impatiently, then sank down onto me with a sound that was pure wolf—a growling pleasure that vibrated through his entire body.
He set a pace that had us both gasping, his body moving with fluid grace as he took his pleasure and gave it in return. His hands gripped my shoulders, nails digging in just enough to leave marks. When I reached between us to stroke him, his head fell back, exposing the vulnerable line of his throat in a gesture of trust that touched me even through the haze of passion.
“Finn,” he gasped, rhythm faltering as he approached his peak. “My mate. Mine.”
“Yours,” I agreed, the word feeling like a vow. “Always yours, Milo.”
His release came with a cry that he muffled against my shoulder, teeth grazing skin in a way that would definitely leave a mark. The sensation of his body tightening around mine, combined with the knowledge that he’d claimed me in this primal way, pushed me over the edge into my own climax.
For several moments, we remained joined, breathing hard, bodies trembling with aftershocks. Milo collapsed against my chest, face pressed to my neck as he inhaled deeply, drawing my scent into his lungs.
